Page 81 of Can't Always Get What You Want

“I can see that,” he says, propping his chin on his hand. “You’d be the mom who knows everyone in the school drop-off line by name. The one who sends themed snacks and has backup socks in her purse.”

I grin. “I’d have an emergency granola bar for every occasion.”

“And a playlist for car rides.”

“Obviously. And boundaries.”

“Nowthat’sparenting,” Luca says with a proud nod. “Therapists everywhere would applaud.”

“Thanks,” I say, smiling softly.

“You ever think about it?” I ask, because I want to know. Because we’re already halfway down this rabbit hole, and I don’t want to dig alone.

He shrugs. “Sometimes. Usually in passing. Like when I see a dad walking around with a baby strapped to his chest. I think that’s pretty cool.”

Pretty cool?

Oy.

“If you need a sperm donor who also knows how to assemble IKEA furniture, I’m your guy.”

“Oh my God.”

I shift uncomfortably, glancing away.

Too late. He caught me staring at his?—

“Stop pretending you don’t like it,” Luca says; he knows exactly what he’s doing.

I force a breath out through my nose and stand, grabbing his now-empty plate to distract myself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously useful,” he calls after me. “Do you evenknowhow many people can’t assemble a crib properly?”

I shoot him a look over my shoulder. “Are you applying for the position of father, boyfriend, or general handyman?”

“Whichever comes with the best perks.”

He stands, following me to the sink.

I hate the way my body buzzes at the sound of his footsteps behind me. Hate it—and crave it all at once.

I busy myself with rinsing dishes while he dries them beside me, the two of us moving in sync like we’ve done this a hundred times.

It’s domestic.

Familiar. Intimate.

And entirely too dangerous.

His shoulder brushes mine as he reaches for the next plate. It’s not an accident. I know it. He knows I know it.

Neither of us says anything.

“So, to clarify,” he says, his tone playful; laced with something heavier. “You’ve considered raising a baby on your own, but you’re scandalized that I offered to help build you a yurt baby nursery?”

“Because.” I stifle a giggle. “You say things like that and then look at me like?—”

“Like what?”

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